


"Pepper and I are..." "Pregnant?"

by lusilly



Series: Trans Tony [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (more or less), AU Where Transphobia Isn't A Thing, Canon Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Gen, Trans Tony Stark, trans tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusilly/pseuds/lusilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first Tony thought Steve was making fun of him, but then it occurs to him that, holy shit, somewhere along the line somebody forgot to tell Captain America that Iron Man is trans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Pepper and I are..." "Pregnant?"

            On a television set into the wall before them, the Winter Soldier sat with heavy, half-lidded eyes, strapped down in his containment chamber like a pouting child in a high chair. Around them, the U.N. team swirled with activity, sending reports, compiling information, contacting government officials, and seeking correspondence with the people whose decisions mattered when it came to what happened to Barnes. Natasha sat at a desk, watching the screen. She was unhappy; then again, they had just brought Captain America into custody, and she was Cap’s friend. Much more so, Tony thought, than he was.

            Tony glanced behind him, at where Steve and Sam were confined to a glass box – a glorified holding cell, where they would wait until the U.N. decided consequences for their actions as well. Like Natasha, Steve’s eyes too were focused on the screen before him, watching his old friend worriedly. Once more, turning away from Steve feeling slightly perturbed, Tony went over the conversation they’d just had in his mind. An argument, really. A quarrel. “A lover’s spat,” he’d quipped to Natasha, whose relationship to Cap he couldn’t quite get a read on, far more intimate than friends, and yet miles away from more-than-friends. From friends-with-benefits.

            His argument with Steve had turned sour about the point Cap reminded him that he was currently in off-again, as opposed to on-again, with Pepper. Steve had wisecracked something cute and demeaning about being pregnant, which was real funny, but as Tony thought back to it, he was starting to get the feeling Steve hadn’t been joking at all. It was probably a form of projection, as any idiot could see that all Captain America really wanted to do was settle down and start a family with Barnes, but it struck the wrong way, leaving Tony feeling disoriented and inauthentic.

            Tony took a seat beside Natasha, and leaned in slightly. She never took her eyes off the screen on the wall before them, where Barnes still sat silently, wrists and ankles bound. Sparing a glance for him, Tony thought briefly that his expression looked a bit like Grumpy Cat, and then he turned back to Natasha and asked sincerely, “Does Steve know I’m trans?”

            This got Natasha to finally look away from the screen, flashing Tony a look of derisive disbelief, as if she couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. “What?”

            “Steve,” Tony clarified, nodding at the glass-walled office behind them, since apparently it was not obvious whom he meant. “He know about all my, you know – gender journey?”

            “Why the hell are you asking me?”

            “Because I think he doesn’t know,” said Tony seriously. “I’m concerned for the guy. Does he even know what transgender is?”

            When Tony waited long enough that Natasha realized this was not a rhetorical question, and Tony was waiting on an answer, her gaze flickered back to him once in annoyance. “I don’t know,” she replied shortly. “The topic’s never come up in polite conversation.”

            “You two never discussed it? Never, you know, whispered comments behind your hands, _Mean Girls_ -style, or anything?”

            Rolling her eyes, Natasha replied, “We don’t gossip about you, Tony, you’re not that interesting.”

            “But this is arguably one of the more interesting things about me,” Tony pointed out, leaning back in his seat. “I mean, come on, if you had to pick something to gossip about me about, like. It’d be the lack of junk in the trunk, am I right?”

            “Tony,” said Natasha, turning to look at him, her green eyes very serious and very not amused. “You really think this is the right time to have this conversation?”

            “Look, I’m just asking because I am genuinely concerned,” replied Tony, holding out his hands to indicate his sincere and earnest intent. “Did they even have transgender people in the 1940s? Was that even a thing? Oh my God,” murmured Tony, having a sudden moment of self-reflection. “I don’t even know my own history.”

            “Stop talking,” said Natasha.

            “I refuse to be silenced,” insisted Tony, with a hint of self-righteousness. Pointing back at the room in which Steve and Sam were locked, he continued, “Someone has to go in there and give that man the Talk. If he doesn’t even know what transgender is, he could very well be trans and not even know it. I mean, think of the tragedy. Think of the inner pain. I set up a Foundation for this and, like, let’s be real,” he said, lowering his voice slightly, leaning in, “Captain America would be an _amazing_ spokesperson, holy shit.”

            Arms folded across her chest, obviously trying to ignore him, Natasha asked, “You want to go give Steve a talk on gender identity?”

            “Well, sure,” replied Tony, with a shrug. “I’m the expert, aren’t I?”

            “Oh, right, and who was it again who gave that talk to you?”

            “A drag queen at a gay club in Greenwich Village, in 1985,” answered Tony shortly, with just a hint of impatience. “You probably weren’t even born yet.”

            She glanced sideways at him. “Yes I was.”

            He narrowed his eyes slightly, glancing her up and down. “You’re not thirty,” he said, watching her suspiciously. “Are you thirty? ‘Cause I was genuinely thinking at this point in my life it would be weird to flirt with you too much, but if you’re already thirty, hey, that’s fair game as far as I’m concerned-”

            Natasha let out a pointed sigh, glancing upwards, as if appealing to some higher power. “Have you ever shut up for longer than two seconds in your goddamn life, Tony?”

            “Yes, Natasha,” replied Tony, mirroring her exasperation. “The first twenty years of my life were pretty quiet, given I was so far in the closet I was practically in Narnia, so will _you_ quit _your_ bitching and take me seriously?”

            “Oh, my God, this is so not the time for this.”

            There was a short pause, and Natasha resumed watching the screen. Again, Tony twisted around to look at Steve anxiously, who paid him no attention at all. “He has to know,” he murmured, trying to reason with himself. “I’ve been working with the man for four years, and I’m supposed to believe he’s never even _Googled_ me?”

            “Tony, why would he need to Google you?” asked Natasha, her patience wearing very thin. “He got a copy of your file when Nick started the Avengers.”

            “My file,” repeated Tony, turning back to her and latching onto that. “You wrote my assessment report, right? Did you mention I’m trans?”

            “ _Why_ would I put that in your file? How is it at all relevant to your contribution to the team?”

            “What, you don’t think my being the resident LGBT-plus Avenger warranted a mention? I’m at Pride every year! Does he not know why I’m at Pride every year?”

            “The Vice-President was at Pride this year,” Natasha pointed out. “It’s kind of a corporate thing, at this point.”

            Tony’s face puckered, and he looked at Natasha distastefully. “You say that because you’ve never marched,” he sniffed. “Besides, I wasn’t there for the tax write-off, I was wearing a suit the color of the trans flag and everything-”

            Mustering a surprising amount of patience, Natasha tapped the desk before them in a karate-chop motion and asked, “If Steve doesn’t even know what transgender _is_ , how the hell is he supposed to know the colors of the flag?”

            With a hint of triumph, Tony said, “So he _doesn’t_ know. You know he doesn’t know, for sure. Right?”

            “I just said,” Natasha told him, “it’s never come up in conversation.”

            “You’ve never had to update him on the current modern-day political going-ons? Really?”

            Dropping her hands to indicate surrender, Natasha shook her head and said, “Look – S.H.I.E.L.D. hired a cultural consultant when he woke up. If there’s something that you think is important that he doesn’t know, take it up with them, not me.”

            Tony eyed her begrudgingly. “Well, I can’t,” he said. “Because they were all Nazis.”

            Natasha looked very much like she wanted to roll her eyes, but, to her credit, she resisted. “They weren’t _all_ Nazis.”

            “Oh, Romanoff, please tell me you did not just hashtag-Not-All-Nazis.”

            Natasha reached her hands up to her face and massaged her eyes. Tony didn’t say anything for a moment, allowing her this, and then she took her hands away and looked at him, almost pleadingly.

            “Do you think, maybe,” she said, sounding the closest to sincere she’d been since the conversation started, “we could table this for another time? Right now there are some very urgent politics going on that are more important than whether or not Captain America knows everything about your very personal history.”

            Aghast, Tony laid a hand on his chest, hesitating briefly as he thought about the three different sets of scar tissue beneath his palm. “The personal _is_ political, Natasha.”

            “Isn’t that about feminism?”

            “Right,” replied Tony, as if this were obvious, “and feminism without transgender justice is bad feminism. Come on, this is entry-level stuff here. Hey,” he said pointedly, finally settling on what he apparently considered a valid point. “How would you feel if Steve had never heard of feminism, hm? Would that be okay with you? No? It’s the same thing.”

            “I don't care,” said Natasha.

            “Well, you know what, as a card-carrying real-life actual transgender person, Natasha, I am officially revoking your ally card.”

            “Please stop talking.”

            Tony twisted around, looking back at Steve. “You think they’d let me back in there to talk to him?”

            In the glass office, Steve’s eyes were still focused on the screen, but Sam apparently seemed to notice Tony’s gaze. He flipped Tony the bird.

            “Um, fucking rude,” said Tony, replying by raising both of his middle fingers back at Sam. “What an asshole,” he said to Natasha. When Natasha did not reply, her eyes focused once more on the screen before them, Tony shook his head. “Why does it feel like I’m the only one concerned for Steve’s wellbeing right now?”

            Natasha’s gaze swiveled around to meet Tony’s, and something fiery and frightening had ignited in her eyes. “Do you _want_ to get knocked out?” she asked, seriously.

            “Hate crime,” said Tony, holding his hands up defensively. “That would be a hate crime.”

            “It would, Tony, and not because you’re trans, but because I actually hate you. I cannot stand you right now. Would you do us all a favor and close your mouth for five minutes?”

            “But, hey, listen to me. What _if_ Captain America is transgender? He – she? – would be such a role model for young kids, like you wouldn’t even believe. Oh, my God, just thinking about it – if I’d grown up with a trans Cap? I’m telling you, Nat, that would’ve changed my goddamn life. Someone should go talk to him.”

            Natasha massaged the bridge of her nose, letting out a long breath. Lowly, she said, “This is not the time to start acting like you care about him, Tony.”

            This kind of offended Tony, although part of him wanted to point out that his previous comment had literally been about himself and his younger self’s wellbeing, so it was a lot more selfish than Natasha was implying, but he thought that would pretty much prove her point, which he couldn’t stand. Indignantly, he began, “I do care about-”

            But he was cut off when someone stepped into the cell where Bucky’s containment chamber was kept, and the good doctor settled down at a desk, and began to ask questions. Tony let his point slip away, watching, along with everybody else in the room, which had gone very quiet, what was about to go happen on the screen before them.

\----

            In a bunker in Siberia, Tony held out his hand. “Woah woah woah, hold on there, Agent Smith,” he said to Bucky, his voice raised, “I need a second with your boy.” When Bucky paused, a look of slight confusion on his face, Tony turned to Steve and lowered his voice. “I know you’re in the middle of some very sensitive shit right now,” he said seriously; Steve watched him with his brow furrowed, looking genuinely troubled, “but you said something, to me, in Berlin, which I have not been able to get out of my head, so I just wanna – just wanna check in before we move on, do you know,” asked Tony, a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “what transgender means? Like, do you know what it is, have you ever heard of it?”

            Steve looked confused. “Tony-”

            “So that’s a no, okay, alright,” said Tony, nodding, removing his hand and holding both palms up, as Bucky fingered his big gun menacingly. “Okay, no problem, you know what, yeah, it’s probably best if we just come back to that later. Least we’re on the same page now. Cool. Alright,” he said, raising his voice again. “Let’s go kick some Winter Soldier ass,” he said, and then he gave a gracious nod in Bucky’s direction and added, “present company excluded.”

 ----

            At the end of Steve’s letter, which was a mess all around and made Tony want to call him immediately and leave an angry, swear-filled voicemail, then hang up, there was a small post-script. Steve had very bad handwriting, which made little sense to Tony, who knew that Steve was a decent artist. Good art and good handwriting seemed like they should go hand-in-hand. But at this point Tony felt, sourly, like nothing would be a surprise from Cap anymore.

            He was wrong, of course, because he was not prepared for the _P.S. – I do know what transgender is, and I think it’s great_ tagged on to the end of the letter.

            Tony clenched his jaw. He was _mad_ and that was such a stupid cop-out addendum that it _wasn’t_ going to soften his feelings towards Steve, no, not at all. It wasn’t.

            Tony went to the paper shredder behind his desk. Carefully, he fed the letter through the shredder, then emptied the small trash can into the recycle out back.

            As he walked away from the recycle bin, and back into the compound, he thought, bitterly, _Nat probably told him to write that, anyway._


End file.
